Twist of Fate
by The Nerd Who Wrote
Summary: AU of Modern Warfare 2/3, based around if Soap and Price had attacked Makarov's safehouse.
1. Chapter 1: Loose Ends

**DISCLAIMER: The author of this writing does not own Call of Duty or any affiliated trademarks. This work is a fan-created non-profit writing, and the author has recieved no compensation, monetary or otherwise, from its creation or distribution.**

**Alright, my waiting period is over, so here I go! Hi, I'm The Nerd Who Wrote, and welcome to my first fanfic on ! This will be an AU story based around a question that I highly doubt I was the first to ask, but do believe I was the first to get a writing of it on. Namely, that question is: What if Soap and Price had gone to the safehouse instead of Ghost and Roach? This will be at least four chapters long, covering the last four levels of Modern Warfare 2, and if I get enough positive attention, I might go into Modern Warfare 3 as well. Standard RoE for R engage on sight. Also, please not that this story will NOT include Roach/Ghost slash. Those of you looking up M-rated Friendship Ghost/Roach looking for lemons may press the back button now. But with that out of the way, Let's get started!**

The war room was dimly lit, the only light emanating from the massive screen on the wall, which was in the middle of displaying the status of the battle on the eastern seaboard of the United States. The picture was still ugly, but it was a hell of a lot better than it had looked 24 hours ago. Seated at the conference table that dominated the room were the lead members of Task Force 141, and General Sheperd himself in the commanding position at the head of the table. Sheperd removed a cigar and a lighter from his uniform pouch, lit it, puffed thoughtfully, and looked over the men assembled before him.

"It's been a tough week, gentlemen. We've lost more than we ever dreamed." He began as the screen zoomed out and started heading West, stopping to pass over the oilrigs, gulag, and submarine base in eastern Russia. "But we will recover. I've got a blank check. And we're gonna use every cent of it killin' Makarov. Despite what the world may say, we are not savages, we don't kill civilians. We use precision. There's an evil man hiding in these shadows and we're gonna bring him into the light. Once his face is revealed, we will write history, gentlemen."

The room remained quiet as the camera came to a stop over the Caucasus Mountains and a US Army vehicle disposal yard in Afghanistan. "These are the last safe havens left on Earth for Makarov and his men."

"Sounds like we gotta be in two places at once." Said Captain Price, breaking the 141's silence.

"Impossible?" Sheperd asked.

"Not for the One-Four-One." Was Price's simple, confident answer.

Ghost spoke next; "Fifty-fifty chance to take out Makarov, eh? Captain Price, request permission to take the boneyard with Roach."

"Granted. Soap and I will take the safehouse in Russia."

Sheperd nodded; "Very well. We will cut off all avenues of escape. This ends now."

"Strange," Price remarked, "I could have sworn we ended this war yesterday."

There were nods all around.

["Loose Ends"]

[Day 6 - 15:36:11]

[Cpt. John "Soap" McTavish]

[Task Force 141]

[Georgian-Russian Border]

No breeze disturbed the trees as the 141 strike force moved through the woods, heading towards the house that stood in a clearing nearby.

"Snipers in position." Soap heard over his radio. That was Archer, one of the best riflemen in the 141. No, THE best, which was why he was on this mission.

"Roger," Price responded, "mission is a go. Engage Makarov on sight." Various affirmations came over the channel.

"Alright, move."

They set off into the woods, not traveling far before they came across a grassy, open area. They rushed into it, attempting to cross as quickly as possible. That idea came to a screeching halt as dirt erupted around Soap's feet. Everything went into slow motion as he saw what could only be a "bouncing betty" mine launch itself into the air before him. Somewhere off in the distance, he heard Captain Price screaming "Ambush!", but nothing mattered to him right then but the airborne explosive right before him. Then his instincts and training took hold, and he dove to the ground just as the mine detonated. His vision went black-and-white, and his ears were filled with an incessant screeching, but he was alive.

Of course, that was when Makarov's men decided to show up and remedy that. He saw movement on the rocks to his left, and turned just in time to see an RPG fly away from one of the mercenaries, and blow a 141 soldier nearly in half. Brining his M4A1 up, Soap fired madly into the enemy, dropping foe after foe in a blind rage. His hearing came back, at least to the point where he could hear the gunfire, and was just in time to hear the distinctive screech of a mortar shell.

"Moartar fire!" Price yelled, sounding somehow... calm in the midst of the chaos, "Get into the trees!"

John stood up, and began rushing the treeline, when the enemy began popping smoke grenades, creating yet another obstacle.

"Push through! Push through!"

John ran, charging through the smoke, and engaging the scattered foes on the other side of it. A few tree stumps and some solar panels proved to be little protection from the incoming hail of bullets.

With the sudden lull in the fighting, Soap took a look around to size up the situation. That was when he noticed that the group now consisted of himself, Price, Scarecrow, and Ozone. He cursed; in the space of less than a minute, Makarov had crippled the entire operation. How the hell had he known that they were coming?

His musings were interrupted by Archer's voice, saying "We got two trucks leaving the target building."

"Stop 'em." Came Price's ice-cold reply.

"Roger! Firing Javelin, danger close!"

Two streaks of flame launched up into the sky alongside Archer's statement of "Two away!" and arced back down into the trucks, ending their flight in a pair of fireballs. "Moving vehicles have been neutralized. Be advised, we have not, I repeat, we have not spotted Makarov, and no one else has left the house. Those trucks may have been decoys. Over."

"Roger that," answered Price, "we're advancing on the house now! Clear the perimeter! Breach and clear the safehouse! Go!"

A few guards were found waiting out front of the house, and were quickly dealt with. Soap rushed up to the front door and placed the square charge onto the wood timbers. Price fell in on the other side of the door, and John pressed the detonator.

The door exploded inwards, and Soap and Price entered with guns blazing. Ten seconds later, the ground floor was clear.

"Office clear!" Called Price, "Ozone, make sure no one leaves through the kitchen."

"Roger that."

"Scarecrow, gimme a sitrep."

"No one's leaving through the front of the basement."

"Dining room clear! Soap, get upstairs and clear the top floor"

Soap rushed upstairs, dropping a few soldiers who were waiting in corners. One door on the top floor was locked, and be destroyed it in the same fashion as the one at the front of the house, and gunning down the two men inside.

"Top floor clear!" Soap called down to the Captain.

"Roger, now get down to the basement and clear out any remaining hostiles."

Soap sprinted down the stairs with Scarecrow on his six, killing the few soldiers at the end of the basement hallway. They moved up to the first door, blew it in, and after they eliminated the men inside, found a well-stocked armory, boasting all kind of wonderful goodies for your terrorist ringleader. They then moved to the other door, blew it, and cleared what turned out to be the garage.

"Basement clear!" Scarecrow called over the radio.

"Roger, now get back up here. Scarecrow, photographs."

"Roger that."

Soap met up with price in the front room as he made a report to Sheperd. "Sheperd, this is Price. Makarov is not here. I repeat Makarov is not at the safehouse. Ghost, any luck in Afghanistan?"

"Plenty," Ghost replied from hundreds of miles away, "fifty plus armed guards. Still no sign of Makarov, though. Did intel have a bad day?"

"They'll be having one hell of a day when we get back, this safehouse is a gold mine."

"Copy that." Sheperd said, rejoining the conversation, "Captain, have your team collect everything you can for an operations playbook. Names, contacts, places, everything."

"Already on it. We're gonna get this bastard."

"That's the idea. I'm bringing up the extraction force, E.T.A. five minutes. Get that intel. Shepherd out."

"Alright, Soap, get on Makarov's computer and get the DSM online. Ozone, you've got rear security, I'm on the front.

"On my way."

Soap began bringing the DSM online and hooking it to Makarov's computer when Ghost came back on the comm.

"Task Force, this is Ghost. More of Makarov's men just showed up at the boneyard. Roach, cover me. I'm gonna get that guy's radio and tap their comms. Captain, we're going silent for a while. Good luck up there. Ghost out."

Ozone spoke next, "Captain, there's an armory in the basement. Better stock up while we can."

Price nodded, "Makarov's men are going to do whatever it takes to keep us from leaving with this. We need to protect the DSM at all costs. Grab anything you need and set up defensive positions. Move."

Soap rushed to the basement, remembering that he had seen a barret down there. He grabbed the huge sniper rifle and made his way to the top floor. A few explosions announced that their respite was over.

"What the hell was that?" Scarecrow asked.

"Be advised," Came Archer's voice, "you have a large concentration of hostiles moving in from the southeast, they've just breached the perimeter! I'll try to thin 'em out before they get too close. Recommend you switch to scoped weapons, over."

"Roger," Price replied, "Everyone move to engage hostiles in the southeast field."

They rushed to the appropriate end of the house, and began laying down fire at the soldiers who rushed the house, mowing them down mercilessly. The minutes passed in a blur. Aim, shoot, reload, repeat. Archer swapped locations, Ozone was killed, Scarecrow followed suit shortly thereafter, and Soap was lost in his endless slaughter of the oncoming troops.

Finally, the transfer ended. John rushed to the computer and unplugged the DSM, before firing an M4 magazine into the computer tower, utterly destroying it.

The radio crackled to life, "This is Shepherd. We're almost at the LZ. What's your status, over?"

"We're moving to the LZ!" Price called back, "Soap, let's go!"

They charged through the trees, gunning down everything that moved in their fury to get the hell out of Dodge. They made it to the treeline easily enough, and then the mortars returned.

"Incoming! Run, Run!" Price hollered at John, who sprinted all-out for the LZ. And that was when a mortar round landed nearly on top of him.

In that moment, Soap stopped caring at all about the mission. All that mattered was how much he _FUCKING HURT_. It was worse than when the truck had exploded beside him on that bridge, if it was possible for something to hurt worse than that. He lay there, everything black, and he knew he was going to die.

Then he felt somebody grab him, and his vision began to come back, revealing Captain Price saving his sorry ass for the, what was it, fifth time? Price was saying something, but his ears were ringing too hard to tell what. He looked up in time to see the treeline explode with rocket detonations, and a little bird helicopter flew past him, strafing the trees mercilessly. His hearing recovered enough for him to hear Price yell "Hang on, Soap!" That proved to be difficult. He was hurting everywhere, his vision fading in and out. Then he felt Price lift him to his feet. "Come on, we're here. It's over."

The words filled John with calm, and he opened his eyes again, revealing General Sheperd walking down the ramp of a pave low helicopter. "Do you have the DSM?" he asked, hustling forward and taking Soap by the other arm.

Too pained for words, John merely nodded.

"Good." Sheperd replied, "That's one less loose end."

Soap saw Sheperd's right hand move for his gun belt. He tried to shout a warning, but his mouth failed to respond. Then the massive .44 Magnum cartridge tore through his gut, forcing him to the ground. And somehow, that hurt worse than all the mortar shrapnel combined. Maybe the agony of being betrayed made it hurt all the more.

"SOAP!" Price roared as he reached for the Colt .45 at his thigh. Price was a fast draw, but Sheperd had the advantage of already having a weapon in hand. Price had the gun halfway up when Sheperd's second shot tore into Price, hurling him to the ground.

Sheperd holstered his weapon and walked towards Soap. He crouched down beside the bloody form and removed the DSM from his vest before signaling to a pair of soldiers in US Army gear. His vision faded out again, and came back into focus as they hurled him into a small ditch. Hitting the ground didn't hurt; he already had plenty of pain running all through him. The shrapnel, the bullet, the betrayal, but now, most of all, seeing Captain John Price, the man he admired, idolized, being tossed aside like him. Price landed facing him, still conscious, but unable to really move. He coughed up blood, and John saw the hole in his chest, positioned over his lung. Then, as if the world wanted the pain to sink in even more, the radio came to life, and Ghost's frantic voice came over the airwaves.

"Captain! Come in, this is Ghost! We're under attack by Shepherd's men at the boneyard! Roach, watch the flank! Do not trust Shepherd! I say again, do not trust Shepherd! Roach, get down!"

Then one last soldier marched up to the duo, a jerry can in his hands, and poured gasoline onto them. That hurt, all his wounds stinging as the fluid entered them. Then Sheperd walked forward, a cigar in his hands. John looked back at his mentor, who smiled weakly, as if to say "We had a good run, didn't we?" Soap nodded as best as he could, and extended his hand to his friend. Price reached out and took the hand, locking their thumbs around each other, their fingers wrapping around the back of each other's hand. Then he saw the cigar falling between them. It struck the wet ground just beneath their hands.

And the flames leapt up around them.


	2. Chapter 2: The Enemy of My Enemy

**DISCLAIMER: The author of this writing does not own Call of Duty or any affiliated trademarks. This work is a fan-created non-profit writing, and the author has recieved no compensation, monetary or otherwise, from its creation or distribution.**

**Alright, chapter 2! Now we get on to Roach's side of the story, which will encompass the last three levels of Modern Wafare 2, and I will include an intermission chapter next. As for the last chapter, I want to thank those who submitted reviews (all two of you, including an RL friend), and note that I deliberately left out an author's note at the end of the chapter, because I just knew that anything I said there would just take away from the impact of that scene. Any talk about all the times I watched that sequence to get the details right, the thought I put into how Soap and Price would react to the betrayal and their imminent deaths would reduce the effect it had on the reader. Don't worry, that's as sad as its going to get (at least, until I decide if I want to kill off another main character...)**

"Captain McTavish, do you copy? Captain Price, come in! Please, does anybody copy?"

Roach's words burned across the airwaves, spreading their message across the world on a classified, encrypted channel. A channel that nobody was alive to receive on.

"They're gone, Roach." Ghost's words were followed with a sigh, the sound of a man who could not believe he was saying those words.

Roach felt his eyes beginning to wet. He slammed his eyelids shut to stem the flow of tears before they could begin, memories of the captains surging into his memory. "Sheperd betrayed us. I _trusted_ him. _We_ trusted him!"

"We all did, mate." Then Ghost made the call for their extraction. "Nikolai, this is Ghost. You got our location?"

"_Da_," the Russian man replied from the cockpit of his C-130 Hercules, "inbound, Ghost. But I am not the only one. You've got Shepherd's men on one side, Makarov's on the other."

"We'll take care of them." Ghost stated.

"Or let them take care of each other. Either way, I'll see you on the other side, my friend"

"See you there. Roach, get moving for rally point bravo! We'll meet up there and make our way to the runway!"

Roach grabbed his silenced MP5K, leaving behind the cumbersome M21 EBR that he had a feeling would do him no good over the next few minutes, and rushed from his perch in the belly of a scrapped airplane, beginning his trip to the rally point.

["The Enemy of My Enemy"]

[Day 6 - 16:03:34]

[Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson]

[160 miles SW of Kandahar, Afghanistan]

[U.S. Vehicle Disposal Yard 437]

It was complete and utter chaos. Guns were blazing everywhere, the screams of wounded and dying men mixing with the roar and chatter of automatic weapons creating an atmosphere that was the very embodiment of terror. The bittersweet tang of gunpowder, the reek of diesel fumes. It was hell on earth. The blood splattering from shot men, pooling around their bodies. Nothing could come close to the insanity of it. The oppressive heat of the desert sun, the slight breeze that played with his hair. Every detail of that moment froze into his mind. The taste of a single tear that had made its way past his eyes. A tear that tasted not of salt, but of sorrow. The bitter loss of his commanders, his mentors, his friends. And Gary knew then in that moment, that he was going to find the man who had caused all of this. This battle, the deaths of his friends, the invasion of America, the slaughter and the airport. He was going to find General Sheperd. And he was going to kill him.

One of Makarov's soldiers was hiding behind a pile of debris, firing on a group of Sheperd's men. However, his position left his back directly exposed to Roach, to fired a short burst into his back before quickly moving along, sticking to the sidelines of the battle. A pair of Little Bird helicopters circled overhead, dodging RPG fire as they strafed the area with their miniguns. As Roach approached a road, one of the helicopters was hit, and spiraled away, trailing flame. As he prepared to rush across the road a BTR-80 came over the crest of a slight ridge on the other side of the road, with more soldiers supporting it. He began picking off the soldiers when the BTR exploded, probably by an AT4 from the Shadow Company position somewhere to his right. Judging by the position of Makarov's men, they were probably cut off and surrounded, in imminent danger of being overrun. But that wasn't Roach's problem. He sprinted across the road, ignoring the tracers that might or might not have been aimed at him, and pressed on.

Mercifully, there were no soldiers in the immediate vicinity of Roach, and took advantage of the respite to keep moving as quickly as possible as Ghost yelled at him to keep moving.

"Nikolai!" Ghost then shouted, "The LZ it hot! I repeat, the LZ is hot!"

"Okay, Lieutenant, I am on the way! Try to get the situation under control _before_ I get there, okay?"

"We're on it!" Ghost hollered back, "Just get over here fast!"

Roach continued moving, and that was when he came across a pair of Sheperd's men. They saw each other at the same time, and they rushed to draw a bead on him as Roach quickly aimed himself. Roach won, dropping the first American as the second's burst went wild. Roach adjusted his aim, fired again, and the second man went down.

It felt horrible. It felt _wrong_. They were _Americans_; they were supposed to be the good guys. And yet here he ways killing them. Yet another thing to add to Sheperd's long list of crimes, horrors, and abominations. He pressed on, adding two more men to those he was going to kill Sheperd for.

"Keep coming, Roach, I'm going to try contacting Makarov."

Roach did as instructed, wondering why in hell Ghost wanted to talk to _him_.

"Makarov, this is Simon Riley, Task Force 141 acting CO. Sheperd is America's poster boy now. He's got your operations playbook, a blank check, and everything to loose if the American government finds out that he's behind all this."

Roach snuck along, moving behind a formation of Shadow Company soldiers without alerting them.

"I've got an offer for you. You tell me where Sheperd is, and we kill him."

So that was what Ghost wanted to talk to Makarov. Roach pressed on, now engaging a few of Makarov's men in sniping positions.

"I know you can hear me, Makarov. Pick up the bloody radio."

The snipers down, roach pushed on, coming to another road. He ducked back as a BTR drove down it, gun blazing. Then a Roach heard a voice that he had only heard in recordings, but was immediately recognizable nonetheless. Makarov.

"And what makes you think that I need your help?"

"We both know you won't last a week. There's an old saying: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Roach killed the mercenaries on the other side of the road, and crossed it.

"You'll find one day that that phrase cuts both ways. Sheperd is at site Hotel Bravo. I assume you know where that is. See you in Hell, Riley."

"See you there. Give my best to Price if you beat me there."

Roach rushed forward, again taking advantage of the lack of nearby soldiers.

"Roach, don't get pinned down, keep moving! Nikolai, where the hell are you?"

"I am approaching the boneyard. I see you do not have situation under control. Very unsafe to land. It looks like when I was in Afghanistan with the Soviets!"

"Nikolai, just shut up and land the bloody plane! We're coming!"

Roach ran up the inside of a plane perched at and angle, killing the sniper inside. As he reached the mouth of the plane fuselage, he saw Nikolai's C-130 fly by overhead, trailing flared as Nikolai yelled something in Russian that was presumably very obscene over the radio.

Roach jumped out of the plane and slid down the hillside, coming to rest next to a Shadow Company soldier who cried out in surprise before roach cut him down. His shout attracted the attention of two more soldiers, who Roach killed as well, the same terrible feeling returning to him. Three more lived destroyed by the monster that called itself Sheperd.

"Roach, come on, you're almost there. We've got some transport, we'll meet you on the way!"

One last road, this one dirt. One last hill. And one last rush through the shattered remains of what had once been aircraft. A few rounds impacted near him, but he ignored them and pushed forward. A car, an SUV of all things, swerved off the runway and crashed into a cargo container, exploding a few seconds later.

"I am taking off in one minute!" Nikolai announced, "You better hurry if you want a ride out of here!"

"Roach, come on, move!" Roach rushed past the flaming SUV to find Ghost and Rook in, of all things, an old Jeep. He vaulted over the door and into the passenger seat as Rook reversed direction and took off towards the runway, trucks manned by Shadow company soldiers in pirsuit. Roached picked off the gunners, once again regretting it, and resolving once again to make Sheperd pay for what he had done. Time slowed down as Roach held the trigger down, spraying one truck after another. Sheperd was going down hard. Sheperd was going to pay. _Sheperd was going to die_!

"Hang on!" Yelled Ghost, pulling Roach out of his mental rage. He grabbed the frame for the long-shattered windshield as the Jeep launched itself into the air, landing on the runway just behind Nikolai's C-130, which was speeding up to begin its takeoff.

Rook sped back up and turned to chace the plane as Ghost yelled over the radio for Nikolai to drop the cargo ramp. The ramp fell to the pavement, trailing sparks behind the plane. Then more trucks sped onto the runway ahead of the jeeps, and the men in the back of them opened fire. Rook jerked, the Jeep swerved, and blood splattered across the console.

"Roach, get the wheel!" Ghost yelled as he opened fire on the trucks, and Roach did as instructed, grabbing the wheel as Rook's foot still held the gas down, and aimed the Jeep for the ramp of the C-130. That proved to be easier said than done, as driving from the passenger seat was hard enough withought having other vehicles trying to ram onself off course. Roach swerved right, knocking one truck away, and readjusted. The Jeep flew up the ramp and into the plane, where it crashed into the wall, grinding to a halt. The ramp came up behind them, and they felt the G-forces of takeoff push them backwards into their seats.

**And there you go for chaper 2! Thanks for reading, and I promise that the next chapter will not be a slightly refurbished runthrough of a level, but what is supposed to make this interesting: how Roach and Ghost handle being the survivors of Sheperd's betrayal. That's right, no copy/pasted Price speech for Ghost, he gets to make up his own! See you in chapter 3!**


	3. Chapter 3: En Route

**DISCLAIMER: The author of this writing does not own Call of Duty or any affiliated trademarks. This work is a fan-created non-profit writing, and the author has recieved no compensation, monetary or otherwise, from its creation or distribution.**

**Hey, I'm back! How many of you thought this was never going to get updated? Anyway, this chapter will be a little bit different than the last two. This one will be during the flight out to Site Hotel Bravo, and will feature a look into Gary's mind, as well as Ghost's version of the For the Record speech. Also please note that this chapter will include somewhat more profanity than the last two. You have been warned.**

The adrenaline had subsided. The plane was cruising at forty thousand feet. They were safe.

Now he could mourn.

Gary paid no heed to the tears that ran down the sides of his face, met at the tip of his chin, and fell to the metal floor of the cargo bay. He ignored the sobs that escaped his throat. All of Gary's mind was focused on the small field journal in his hands as he fought to keep his eyes long enough to read his entries in it.

_Sheperd called it Task Force 141, the finest group of handpicked warriors on the planet. I don't know what I did to get assigned to it, but I guess he thinks I fall into that category. Only two problems, though._

_1: Today I heard someone call me "FNG" for the first time since I made Corporal. I thought I'd never hear that name again._

_2: The captain makes Sheperd look like a pussy. His name's McTavish, and he's a six-foot-six two hundred eighty pounds of muscle Scot with a MOHAWK. He seems nice enough, but I don't want to get on his bad side..._

A tear dripped onto the page, and Gary quickly wiped it off before it soaked into the paper. He turned the page and kept reading. There were his reactions to meeting other members of the team, including Ghost, who had been rather intimidating as he had just stood there staring at him from behind his skull mask. Then came the incident that earned him his callsign.

_So I'm one of the team now, and I've got the nickname to prove it: **ROACH**. All it took was getting myself killed. We were on the firing range, doing basic shooting, when one of the guys, Meat, let go of the bolt while unjamming it. The round went off, and we would have all had a laugh at his expense, **if he hadn't been pointing the fucking gun at me!** They rushed me back to the base hospital, where they started fixing me up. Meat had shot me through both lungs and missed my heart by about a quarter of an inch. They rushed me back to the base hospital, where the doctor promptly overdosed me on painkillers and nearly killed me again. By the time they had brought my heart rate back up into something survivable, I had lost 65% of my blood. Nobody knows how I managed to survive the surgery, but the doctor says I'm probably going to recover without any lasting issues. That's good, I'd hate to get into an elite unit and get crippled a week later because of friendly fire._

Meat had visited him every day, apologizing again and again for shooting him. The newly dubbed Roach forgave him, and the two had formed a friendship. A friendship that had been torn away not even a week ago.

_Meat's dead. We were heading up into the favella after Rohas when we got into the biggest firefight I've ever seen. The local arms militia must not have w anted us there, 'cuz they swarmed us like moths to a candle. I didn't see Meat die, but I heard Royce screaming that he was hit over the radio, just before he got dropped too. We found their bodies in a house after we'd bagged Rohas. Meat had been hit in the head, and Royce had three in his chest. We didn't even have time to bury them. The captain took their dogtags and left the bodies. I don't want to know what those bastards did with them. Probably skinned them and tacked them to the wall or some shit like that. That's two more Makarov is going to pay for. Going to bleed and die for. I'm going to __**cut his fucking heart out and**_ he had never figured out the "and".

Of course, Makarov's killing had not ended with Meat and Royce. Not by a long shot.

_Just got the news from Sheperd: Russia invaded the US today. Heavy fighting in Alaska, Virginia, Maryland, California, and Washington. Makarov's scheme paid off. One airport of dead civvies and an American at blame, and Russia blew its top. No nukes yet, thank God, but the death toll is going through the roof. I am going to **kill that bastard if it's the last thing I do! Time for him to die already!**_

Then had come the submarine, the oil rigs, and the gulag. It had all gone rather well, up until the part where Captain McTavish's former CO had broken his nose. Then had cone the real low point of the day.

_Two words: **OH SHIT** Price just hijacked a Russian submarine and fired off a nuke. Most likely target: Moscow. So we got the captain's boss out of prison, and he repays us with the end of the world. **Can this week get any fucking worse?**_

It could. The nuke hadn't been pointed at Moscow after all, but instead at Washington, detonating high in the atmosphere to create an EMP blast that had allowed American forces to regain the upper hand. It had gotten worse today, with one act: Sheperd had betrayed them. The safehouse team was dead, along with Rook and everyone else at the boneyard. It was just him and Ghost now, two men with the same mission. Gary picked up a blood red pencil and wrote two words.

_**KILL SHEPERD!**_

"One last thing," Gary heard Ghost say, "just for the record."

Gary looked up to see Ghost speaking into a computer, recording an audio file.

"A certain general once said that history is written by the victor. He failed to state what it takes to be the victor. The victor is the man who is willing to do whatever is necessary to win, regardless of the cost. If he lives, he will be known as the savior of America, the man who stood up in its darkest hour and made the choices that needed to be made to save her in her hour of need. His necessary sacrifice includes hundreds of thousands of young men who have left behind weeping mothers, wives, and children. Millions of civilians whose lives have been shattered by his actions. And Task Force 141, who trusted him beyond question. But there was one error in his thinking. Ghosts and Roaches don't die. General Sheperd, we are coming for you. And you will pay for what you have done. We will kill you."

Roach watched as Ghost saved "4therecord" as a .wav file and uploaded it to the TF141 database. He was right. This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

**My, my, it seems that Sheperd is in a bit of trouble, what with those two comming after him. R&R is, as always, appreciated, and stay tuned for the next chapter, which will be (probably renamed) "Just Like Old Times". See you there!**


	4. Chapter 4: In Memorandum

**DISCLAIMER: The author of this writing does not own Call of Duty or any affiliated trademarks. This work is a fan-created non-profit writing, and the author has recieved no compensation, monetary or otherwise, from its creation or distribution.**

**Back from the dead! Okay, I know I waited far too long to get this moving again. It's funny how life goes sometimes. I said "Oh, I can handle that tomorrow." And tomorrow, I got hit with life, which resulted in more life happening, and before I know it, five months have passed. So, I want to give a big thank you to those of you who kept me on your submit list, and add an additional shout out to you who added me in the last few months, because I might not have gotten back to writing if I hadn't been getting emails that people were subscribing to me. Anyway, that's enough from me, on with the show!**

The trio landed in Khanadar and spent the night in a ratty motel that reeked of cigarette smoke. As the next day broke they returned to the airfield, where they consolidated their gear and prepared to launch their assault upon the base of the man who had murdered their friends and commanders. Finally, the pair took off in a little bird chopper, and sailed off to site Hotel Bravo, skimming the dunes to avoid being seen on radar.

The trio traveled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, sometimes one glancing briefly at the others, wondering what was going on in their minds. Finally, Roach broke the silence with a sigh.

"Okay, I'll admit it. I'm having second thoughts. How are the two of us going to take out a heavily fortified base that's expecting us? And that's assuming that Makarov wasn't lying."

Ghost remained silent for a few seconds before he turned to gaze at the few weapons that lay on the floor; a pair of Interventions, an ACR and a UMP, all with silencers.

"You're right, mate. This has suicide mission written all over it. But it doesn't matter. Wither or not we come out of this doesn't matter. What matters is this: that we stop the lie. Sheperd is a madman bent on making America an empire, no matter who gets trampled underfoot. Terrorism, war, and cold-blooded murder mean nothing to him, as long as his insane ideals of patriotism are met.

"That is why we are doing this. That is why we are going on a suicide mission. That is why we are not going to stop until General Sheperd breathes no more. Because if we stop him, the lie will stagnate. If the lie stagnates, it will rot. And when the lie rots, it will fall apart, and this madness will end." Ghost drew his knife and ran his thumb along the blade, "But first, we kill him. We kill him in memory of our friends. In memory of our commanders. We kill him for every poor bastard whose life has been ruined by this war. For every weeping mother. For every broken wife. For every child who can't figure out why daddy's not comming home. It's for them that we are going to kill him."

"I'll wait for you at the exfil point. Three hours." Nikolai called as the Little Bird took off and headed for the horizion.

"See you there, Nikolai." Ghost called back.

"Good luck, my friend."

["In Memorandum"]

[Day 7 - 17:32:36]

["Roach" Sanderson]

[Site Hotel Bravo, Afghanistan]

The two renegade warriors made their way up the sand dunes, heading towards the road that stood on a cliff overlooking the hidden entrance to Sheperd's hidey-hole, a United States covert operations base known as Hotel Bravo.

"I've got something on thermal," Ghost stated from his position a few meters ahead of Roach, "There's something here alright."

They crested one final ridge, and Ghost held up his fist as he whispered "Hold." Roach moved up beside him and peeked over the edge through his scope. Six men and two dogs were milling about near a humvee that sat idle on the road. "Looks like this is it."

"Well, lucky us," he added a moment later, "they're splitting up. Let's hope these radio codes were good too."

A second later, new voices speaking in American accents entered Gary's ears.

"Go ahead, Alpha." Said what must have been the man in the command center, checking in with the patrols.

"Riverbed all clear, over."

"Bravo?"

"Sandstorm. Not much to see right now, over."

"Zulu?"

"Uh, we're starting our patrol east along the canyon. North-side access road, over." Said one of the men on the road below him.

"Alright," said Ghost, focus on the big group first. On my mark."

Gary lined up his rifle, and at the inevitable "Mark", he pulled the trigger, and sent a small piece of metal flying away from him at supersonic speeds, directly through one man's skull, and into the back of another. Then he just waited there, staring through the scope of his weapon at the two men he had just murdered. He had killed unaware men before, but this was different. These were men whose only crime had been to not be good enough for the 141, men who had come to the attention of Sheperd, but had ultimately lacked the skills needed to join the ranks of the most elite. Instead, Sheperd had placed many of them into his personal force, Shadow Company. And he had killed them.

Somewhere off in the distance, he heard the muted sound of Ghost's rifle, and then his thoughts were interrupted by the man's voice, "Four and a dog down. Let's get the others."

"Get the others" was the last thing Gary wanted to do, but Roach stood up and followed Ghost down the hill. It was steep, and they slid part of they way down before sneaking up behind the other two men and their dog.

"Alright, Roach, you first this time." Ghost declared as he drew a bead on his target.

Gary lay flat on the road, lined up the shot, mouthed "I'm sorry" to the man who would never know what killed him, and pulled the trigger. He fell flat a moment before the other dropped, and a second after that, the dog went down as well.

"They're gonna find the bodies soon, let's get moving." Ghost instructed as he moved towards the edge of the road. There were barriers on the side of the road to prevent vehicles from falling off, consisting of a simple metal bar encased in concrete on either side, which just happened to be a perfect spot for them to hook up a pair of carabiners and rapell their way down the cliff.

"Desciple four, Oxide" came the voice from the command room again, "What's your status, over?" They ignored the call and it's following hails, knowing it meant time was running out, and made their way over the cliff, where Gary discovered that the day's killing was not over by a long shot.

"Two below," came Ghost's voice, "I've got one, you get the other. Ready…"

Roach drew his knife, and slid into position just a few feet over the man on the left's head.

"Go."

The next thing Gary knew, his knife was buried to the hilt in his victim's abdomen, and he was holding his hand over the man's mouth. He felt the initial cry of pain against his palm, but after that, silence. His brown eyes met Gary's, but not with anger or accusation. In the man's eyes, Gary saw only begging. Please, they eyes said, I need to live. They struck deep into his soul, a gaze that would haunt him for the rest of his days. This was ridiculous, this was insane, that he was here, murdering this man in cold blood.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

Then the eyes glassed over and his head fell sideways. Roach set him down and drew the UMP he had been carrying. Directly behind them was the cave that would provide their infiltration point, and they set off into the base. They journeyed down the rough tunnel of stone, making their way into the belly of the beast, when Ghost called "One ahead, don't engage."

Roach moved forward and saw a man standing in front of an old television set, a lit cigarette in his mouth.

"Patrol incomming!" Ghost called, "Go left!"

They ducked behind a curtain that sheltered an alcove, and waited as their radios flared back to life.

"Butcher Seven, Oxide. We've lost contact with Disciple Five."

"Probably just the sandstorm that's rollin' in or a bad transmitter." Said a new voice, "Send a team to check it out, over."

"Roger that, Oxide." Came yet another voice, "I'll send Vinson and Lambert. Butcher Seven out." The patrol moved along past their position, and out to the mouth of the cave.

"Your call, Raoch," Ghost stated after the patrol had left, "take him or leave him."

Roach knew that those guards were going to find the bodies, that they should move now, but Gary just couldn't bring himself to kill the man who was only out to get his nicotine fix. And so, they waited until the man finished his cigatette, flicked it aside, and walked down another hallway.

They moved along in silence, skirting a chamber with a large group of soldiers milling about. They ducked left, avoiding a pair of sentries in the main corridor, and detoured around a rock formation, making their way forward until they could see a concrete staircase and a pair of soldiers descending towards them. "Take the one on the right, Roach. Three… Two… One…"

A few muffled shots escaped the gun barrels, and the guards fell to the rock floor. They passed the bodies and began climbing, Ghost in the lead.

"Disciple Six," said the command post, "we've lost all contact with Disciple Five. Check it out, over."

"Roger that Oxide, we're on the catwalk, heading to the steam room. Standby."

There was a sentry at the top of the staircase, but he was looking the wrong way, demonstrated graphically a few seconds later as Ghost's knife entered his chest. They passed on, and entered a room filled with steam releasing from vents in the walls. Gary noticed a weapon rack containing an ACR equiped with not only a silencer, but also a red dot sight and even a heartbeat sensor. Leaving behind his Intervention, he claimed the rifle and a bandolier of magazines as the radio came to life.

"Disciple Six, go dark, breach and clear."

"Get ready," said Ghost, "Here they come."

"Door charge planted. Ready to breach."

"Hit it."

"Breaching, breaching!"

There was an explosion, and the door at the far end of the cavern blew open. Shadow Company soldiers swarmed through the hole.

"Door area clear! Foxtrot Element, sweep left."

"Light 'em up." Came Ghost's simple statement. The two depressed their weapon's triggers, and the soldiers were mowed down in a hail of bullets. Roach emptied his magazine, reloaded, fired off the next, and found no more enemies standing after his sixtieth round.

"Disciple Nine, your rear guard just flatlined!"

"Not possible. We just cleared that area. Nobody's-"

"It's Riley." said the voice of the man they had come to kill. Just hearing Sheperd's voice inflamed Gary's rage yet again, drowning him in hate.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

"Backup priority items and burn the rest. Fireteams just delay 'em until we're ready to pull out."

They emerged from the steam room, and found themselves on the catwalk the soldiers had mentioned. Ghost gestured to a stack of riot shields lying atop a crate, and told Roach to grab one, allowing him to draw fire while he took care of hostiles.

He soon turned out to be right, as they came under fire from a group on the catwalk. Gary moved forward, cringing as bullets bounced off the shield he crouched behind. He had never liked riot shields, they felt too flimsy, like the next shot was going to go right through it and into him. Well, at least he wasn't trapped in a cage being fired at from all sides this time. He pushed onward along the catwalk, until he noticed that rounds were no longer slamming into his portable cover.

"Alright, we're clear!" Ghost called, and they stormed forward, Roach once again arming his rifle, slinging the shield over his back.

"Butcher One-Five, rendezvous at the nest and prepare to escort Gold Eagle to the LZ."

"Gold Eagle will be Sheperd. We've gotta move, now!"

They rushed through a short tunnel and found themselves under an overhang with a ledge that fell off into a cliff. A helicopter hovered over the ledge, deploying soldiers carrying shields of their own. Ghost and Roach pummled them with grenades, clearing out the squad before turning left and clearing out the forces rushing from the command post. They kept pushing, through a tunnel and into what resembled the bottom a sinkhole split by a ravine, where they were met by a squad using smoke grenades to cover their insertion.

"Watch for flanking manuvers!" Ghost called to Roach as he settled in to hold the front. Roach moved into a small adjacent chamber, where he availed himself of a SCAR-H equiped with a thermal scope, which he used to pick off the soldiers moving towards him. With the flank taken care of, he then moved forward, flanking the soldiers firing on Ghost. They fell quickly.

"Oxide, Butcher Five-Actual. I've got a severed det cord - we're gonna need ten mikes to get the trunk rigged and the EBC primed, over."

"Negative, Gold Eagle wants those charges hot in less than three mikes. Get it done, out."

Ghost and Roach rushed the control room just in time to see it slammed shut by a soldier.

"Damn it! Roach, blow that door, we're close!"

Roach did as instructed, placing the breaching charge on the door, and as the charge detonated, they moved in together. The control room's walls were covered in computer monitors with a map table in the center. Scattered through the room, however, were barrels covered in the familiar shape of C4 packages. Standing in their way were five guards.

The first one to die was the one who rushed them, wielding a knife. Hot on his heels was the man on the right with a Vector submachine gun, followed by the one to his left, wielding the same. Fourth was the man who was reaching to catch a weapon, and last was the one who threw it to him.

"All units be advised," came Sheperd's voice again, "this is Gold Eagle. The site has been compromised. I am executing directive one-one-six bravo. If you're still inside, your service will be honored. Shepherd out." A second later, every screen in the control room began a twenty second countdown. They didn't need to guess what to.

"Roach, get those doors open!" Ghost yelled to the one of them that was actually capable of hacking, and Gary began a furious rush to override the door controls. He suceeded somehow, and they sprinted up the stone ramp outside the door. Gary made it to the mouth of the cave and was blinded by the sunlight, a moment before fire leapt up around him as the base exploded.

Roach regained consousness with a splitting headache, hearing Sheperd's voice somewhere off in the distance as he saw Ghost firing outward from behind a pile of sandbags.

"Excalibur, this is Gold Eagle. Fire mission - target package Romeo - danger close."

"That's within a hundred meters of your position sir!"

"That's not a suggestion! Send it!"

"Roger, fire mission danger close!"

"Roach!" Ghost yelled, "Hit the dirt!"

Suddenly, the whole area before them, just a moment ago a supply depot, was a series of massive explosions, and then it was a flaming mess as dazed, wounded, sometimes flaming soldiers stumbled or crawled about, not seeking shelter, but reduced to the instinct of being anywhere that was not right there.

Grimly, Ghost recited the United States Army's favorite joke; "Since when does Sheperd care about danger close?" And as he surveyed the carnage, watching a helicopter crash on the far side of the field, Gary could not help but agree. Only a monster could do something like this, knowing he was going to kill his own men. Knowing that his life was in peril, and willing to kill anyone to stay alive.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

They moved forward, through the wasteland, pushing closer to the madman one step at a time.

"Sir, sandstorm activity is picking up here. It's too risky for flight ops."

"Understood. Head for the tunnel. We'll take the Zodiacs."

A pair of helicopters dropped off more soldiers, but they fell like all those before them, pawns in a greater scheme, dying without knowing that they were fighting for the bad guy.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

"Come on, Roach! Sheperd said something about Zodiacs, there must be a river nearby!"

They rushed into a tunnel, mowing down the quartet that tried to stop them, and sprinted after the man—the monster—who had destroyed the world as they had known it.

This was going to end.

SHEPERD WAS GOING TO DIE!


	5. Chapter 5: Endgame

****DISCLAIMER: The author of this writing does not own Call of Duty or any affiliated trademarks. This work is a fan-created non-profit writing, and the author has recieved no compensation, monetary or otherwise, from its creation or distribution.****

**Well, here we are, gents, at the conclusion of the Modern Warfare 2 that let the good characters live. Rate and Review is, as always, appreciated, and without further ado (or shameless begging for reviews), let us read.**

"They're just around the corner! Come on!"

Roach rushed down the caverns, following Ghost as they found themselves by a river in the cavern, and a zodiac inflatable boat whisking Sheperd away.

["Endgame"]

[Day 7 – 18:10:24]

["Roach" Sanderson]

[Site Hotel Bravo, Afghanistan]

A second boat was at the ramshackle pier Sheperd had just launched from, and the pair hopped into it, Roach slamming down the throttle as Ghost fired his rifle at the fleeing general.

Roach had never felt more adrenaline coursing through his veins as he did right there. Their chase led then through the cavern, into a gorge, back into caves, and out into a widening in the river, all the while ducking bullets from soldiers on the shores, in zodiacs, in helicopters, filling the air around him with lead to the point where he was afraid he might inhale one. Then he heard Ghost yell "Rapids!"

And just like that, Gary lost any sense of control, fighting to keep the boat from flipping over as he doggedly held the throttle down while water slammed into his face, blinding him. It only took seconds for them to clear the rapids, but they were the most harrowing seconds of his life, with any of a million things all conspiring to kill him in that instant. But finally, they were through, and only one zodiac remained in Roach's line of sight; Sheperd's.

"Avatar one, gimme a sitrep, over!" Roach was amazed that the radio was still working after the thrashing it had just taken.

"I have warhorse 5-1 on standby. Pave Low's downriver, sir."

"Copy that! Warhorse 5-1, be advised, we're comin' in hot!"

"Rodger, dropping the hatch. Keep it above 30 knots and watch the vertical clearance."

They rounded one last bend, and saw Sheperd's zodiac vanish into the rear of a helicopter. "Roach!" Ghost called, "Hold it steady!"

Roach leaned off the throttle, and Ghost began lining up a shot with his rifle. "Steady!"

The Pave Low began to turn, preparing to escape with the man who had murdered their friends. "Steady…"

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_CrackBOOM!_

The Pave Low's portside engine exploded, and the helicopter span out of control, loosing altitude rapidly. They had a moment to congratulate themselves, before they realized that they had ridden the river right to a waterfall. "Pull back! Pull back!"

Roach did his best to turn the boat around, but the rushing water rendered it a moot point. The boat and its occupants sailed over the edge off the waterfall, and tumbled down to the raging water below. Roach hit the water, and held himself awake for a moment before the pain took him.

Gary's eyes fluttered open. He was alive. That alone was a surprise. Then his nerves came back, and he hurt. He ached across his body from the abuse it had taken. Not only from the waterfall, but the whole past week, falling and crashing and diving and sliding, and running and jumping and _augh his lungs!_ He rolled over to his hands and knees and retched, water gushing out of his burning lungs. Enough of this shit. He was done. Two words entered his mind, and danced around in murderous joy.

KILL SHEPERD

Roach worked his way to his feet, and he drew his only remaining weapon, his knife. Off in the distance, though the brewing sandstorm, he could see the dancing light of fire. That must have been where the helicopter went down. That was where Sheperd was going to be.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

He set off, limping and stumbling, vision fading in and out, trying to keep moving as he made his way towards the wreck. He was closing in on the crash site when he spied a form crawling towards him. It was one of the soldiers in the boat, dragging himself away from the crash trailing blood behind him. Gary passed him by. There was only one man who needed to die here.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to die.

Finally, he reached the wreckage, and saw a second soldier lying by what had once been the cockpit of the helicopter. When he saw Roach approaching, he drew a G18 pistol, and Gary began to panic. He couldn't die here! Not now! Not so close!

_Click._

Gary sighed. The weapon was empty. Or broken. It didn't matter, as long as it wasn't going to kill him. But the soldier didn't seem to realize this, and pulled the trigger a grand total of thirteen times before looking at the weapon, and fainting. Gary let him be.

Then came a sound from the other end of the crash site, and Roach turned to see none other than General Sheperd himself fleeing from the crash. His vision went red, and Roach surged after the traitor.

This was going to end.

Sheperd was going to _**DIE!**_

Roach chased Sheperd into the sandstorm, loosing sight of him in the mass of flying particles. But he pushed forward heedless, because there was _no fucking way_ he was letting this bastard get away from him now. Slowly, the shell of what once was a truck came into focus, and beyond that and oil well. And leaning against the truck was General Sheperd. Roach walked up to the truck, and stared at the battered form breathing heavily against the scrap of metal.

"You know what they say about revenge…" General Sheperd grunted. "You better be ready to dig two graves."

Gary continued to stare.

"Go ahead, end it. It won't change anything."

Roach raised the knife to strike, but then paused. Despite everything this man had done, all the lives he had destroyed, could he really kill him, right here, in cold blood?

Gary lowered the knife.

Sheperd sighed. "I'm disappointed in you, Gary."

"You weren't always the best warrior…"

"But you were always willing… to take that extra step…"

"To do what was absolutely… nesecarry…"

What was he doing? He was sitting here listening to this man? This monster? No. He was going to finish this!

_**THIS WAS GOING TO END!**_

_**SHEPERD WAS GOING TO DIE!**_

He charged forward, knife slashing down to tear into Sheperd's black heart.

Then he was on the ground, his head aching. What had just happened? Sheperd was still there, now standing above him. Had he- he was drawing a knife of his own. Wait, what had just-

The knife stabbed into his gut, and pain took Gary again.

This time, his ears came back first.

"Five years ago, I lost thirty thousand men in the blink of an eye."

"And the world… just _fuckin' watched_."

Gary's eyes came back in time for him to see Sheperd loading his pistol as he said "You've heard the saying 'there's always tomorrow?' Tomorrow there will be no shortage of volunteers. No shortage of patriots. No shortage of men willing to lay down their lives for their country."

He slammed the revolver chamber shut, and leveled the weapon at Gary's head.

"I know you understand."

_Bang!_

Sand landed on Gary's face as the bullet dug into the ground right beside his face, General Sheperd's aim thrown off by Ghost, who had appeared out of nowhere, slamming into Sheperd's side and knocking him away. Sheperd got back to his knees, and brought his gun up, only to have it kicked out of his grip by Ghost.

Roach dragged himself to the weapon. If he could get to it… If he could get a shot off… Ghost was knocked to the ground on the other side of the gun just as Roach's hand wrapped around the metal of the weapon, and he pivoted towards the sky to see Sheperd standing above him. He pulled the trigger just as Sheperd's hand slammed into his arm, and the bullet whizzed by its target as the revolver flew away.

Four shots left.

Sheperd punched Roach in the face and chased the weapon, only to find that Ghost had picked it up. He dived at Ghost, and tackled him just as he fired, sending the bullet spinning off towards the crash site, and the gun from his hand.

Three shots left.

Sheperd scrambled for the gun, and picked it up in his left hand. He brought it up to Ghost's face and fired, just as Roach slammed into him from the back, knocking him to the dirt, and sending the shot into the sand beside Ghost's head.

Two shots left.

Sheperd grabbed the back of Roach's head, and in a classic wrestling move, pulled Roach over and slammed him into the sand on his back, bringing up the gun for another shot. Acting in desperation, Roach grabbed Sheperd's left hand with his own and pushed it away just as the gun went off, sending another bullet into the sands of Afghanistan.

One shot left.

Roach followed up with another wrestling move, slamming his arm between Sheperd's legs, he pulled with his left arm and pushed with his right, sending Sheperd crashing to his back while moving Roach to a sitting position. He reached out with both hands, tearing the gun from Sheperd's grip before spinning away to his left to prevent Sheperd from getting it again. He came full circle and found himself in a kneeling position face-to-face with Sheperd. Without hesitation, he raised the revolver, and pulled the trigger hard, firing the weapon double-action rather than cocking it beforehand.

Gary would swear to the end of his days that he saw Sheperd's left eye cave in from the impact of the .44 magnum round a split second before the back of his head exploded in a shower of brain, blood and bone. In slow motion, he watched as General Sheperd, the liar and murder and traitor, fell to the sands, and lie still.

It was over.

Sheperd was dead.

And with that realization, all the adrenaline faded from his system, and Gary cried out as the pain of the knife returned to him, made all the worse by the last few second's fighting. He gripped his abdomen, and for the third time that day, blacked out.

Gary awoke to the sound of helicopter blades. He opened his eyes to see Ghost kneeling beside him, fitting bandages over his wound. "C'mon," he said, hoisting Gary up, "It'll do. Let's get out of here."

Gary saw Nikolai standing beside the Little Bird that had dropped them off earlier today, saying "You know it's not over yet. They'll be looking for us."

"We'll deal with that when we have to, mate."

Gary cried out again as a jolt of pain shot through him. He stumbled, and Nikolai rushed to his other side, supporting him along with Ghost.

"Nikolai, we've gotta get Roach out of here."

"Da. I know a place."

**And that's that. Thanks to you all for bothering to read this (I know there are more of you out there), and I hope to see you around again in the future. I am still trying to decide weither or not to move this on into Modern Warfare 3, but the more Reviews I get, the more likely I am to do so. But in the meantime, see you guys around.**


	6. Chapter 6: Pain

_White._

_Blinding, painful white._

_Was he dead?_

_His chest was pounding._

_He could feel something slamming against it._

_He hurt._

_Everywhere._

_Maybe that meant he wasn't dead._

_Or he'd died and gone to Hell._

_Wait, his vision was coming back._

_What was that?_

_Helicopter blades._

_The air they were moving must be what was slamming into his chest._

_Who was that?_

_He saw someone standing in front of him, but his eyes refused to focus._

_Then they adjusted, and he recognized the skull balaclava as Ghost's._

_Another man stepped into his line of sight, Nikolai._

"Get him inside!"_ he heard Ghost yell._

_He started moving, even though he was lying down._

_He must be on a gurney._

_A wave of agony rolled through him, and his mind retreated into memory, contemplating what brought him to this moment._

_He remembered his first mission, not even a week ago, in the snowy mountains of Russia._

_He could still hear Captain McTavish's voice echoing in his ears._

"_Break's over, Roach. Let's go."_

_Somewhere off in the distance, Nikolai said _"The safehouse is up ahead!"

"Keep moving!"_ He heard even farther away as his mind remembered meeting Captain Price._

_Being punched in the face by Captain Price._

_But… they were dead now…_

"Out of the way! Get a medic!"

_They… they had been murdered._

_He remembered… boats…_

_He remembered… Ghost… yelling._

"_Back up! Back up!"_

_And water. Drowning._

"_Keep pressure on that wound!"_

"_I'm trying!"_

_One of the blurry figures turned to face him._

"_Hang in there, my friend."_

_Sheperd._

_He remembered… Sheperd._

_Shepered was a murderer._

_No… Sheperd was dead._

_He had… killed him._

_He could still hear the shot._

_The shot he had fired._

_Why… why was everything red?_

_One of the blurry figures ran up to another._

_He must have said something, but… he couldn't hear._

_He… he couldn't see…_

_Couldn't… think…_

_Pain_

**I'm back! You thought I was just going to write ponies for the rest of eternity? (Those of you who haven't checked my page lately, yes I'm a brony. Don't worry, it will not affect this writing.) Yes, it's short, but so is that scene. Although it does last longer when you keep restarting it to catch the details. Anyway, Welcome to World War III!**

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